The Last Dragonborn
by That girl next door type
Summary: The last Dragonborn is dead, or so they thought... With that death, everything changed and the destiny of an unlikely hero was forever altered, for fate cannot be stopped. Years later kings wage war and brothers turn on each other, Skyrim is plunged into war and the black wings are spread, ready for flight. Join the Dragonborn on their quest to save their homeland. Walkthrough fic!
1. Chapter 1

**Okay, so this is my first attempt at a Skyrim fanfic. I've been playing the game for years now and am completely in love with the story and the characters. I want to breath some life into them and make the story as real as it can be when it's about a magical land where dragons exist and cats can talk! I love reviews, and all are welcome, even criticism (but be gentle, I'm new at this.) Please tell me if you find any spelling or grammatical errors because I've read this so many time that I can't see them anymore! This is a walkthrough fic and all of the main events will happen but I'm trying to make the characters human, with real emotion so don't be surprised if things don't go exactly as they do in the game, but don't worry, I'm sticking as close to the original storyline as I possibly can, I'm just going to have some fun with it first.**

 **Disclaimer: no matter how much I wish I did, I don't own Skyrim or anything else in the Elder Scrolls series. Bethesda studios does.**

* * *

The wind blew, unforgiving and harsh, on the tip of the Throat of the World where five Nord men gathered. Four wore the plain grey garb of the Greybeards, the other wore the orange tunic of a priest. The men stood in a loose circle around a small mound made in the pale snow, laid on top was a worn purple banner with a heart like shape carefully sewn onto the coarse fabric. It was a burial mound.

"What are we to do? The last Dragonborn is dead. All hope is lost." The priest's shoulders sagged, pushed down the the weight of the loss.

Arngeir looked towards the priest, his grey cloak flapping in the frigid winds that howled on that cold morning in Frostfall. "Today is a sad day for Skyrim and her people, but we mustn't descend into despair."

The priest of Talos let out a shaky breath, "how can I not when our last hope is dead and gone. The world will perish in dragon fire." His desperate whisper was all but lost in the howling winds that were ever present on the mountain's snowy summit. "How could this have happened? After all our planning he died, just like any man."

Arngeir's voice was heavy, "it is our own fault Heimskir, we waited too long. We should have told Ballinor who he was long ago and now it is too late. He died never knowing that he was different, that he was special, that he was Dragonborn." The calmness that always surrounded the Greybeards had vanished, only to be replaced by a deep sadness.

Arngeir looked up at the grey sky putting his weathered hand on the priest's frail shoulder in a small show of comfort. "Hopefully we have read the signs wrong and the World-Eater will never return. Go home to Whiterun and preach to all who will listen, the people need Talos, now more than ever." He looked at the snowy mound wrapped in the banner of the Dragonborn, "there is no more we can do for him. He rests in Sovngarde now."

The Greybeards gathered together and Heimskr covered his ears, knowing what was about to happen. "Dovahkin," the combined power of the four shook the ground as the Th'um flew out into the sky, telling the world of the last Dragonborn. It was the first and last time that the man of whom they were speaking would be recognised to the world for what he truly was...Dragonborn.

As each man walked away from the grave a mass of fire exploded into existence from the west. It was a dragon, though his mighty wings were torn and his scales did not hold the golden glow they had once possessed he was still a wonder to be seen, a relic from the ancient world. It was Paarthurnax, the leader of the Greybeards and last of the dragons.

He had watched from afar as the Greybeards buried the Dragonborn.

The elder dragon had felt a shift in fate's plans as the mortal was put in his final resting place. Alduin would return, the signs had not been read wrong. The end times were fast approaching but the last Dragonborn had not fallen on this day, no, they were somewhere in Tamriel, just waiting to be discovered.

There was still hope to be found, but at that moment it was far away from the empty peak where the winds howled.

* * *

All was still and silent in the dark forest save for the large elf that moved swiftly through the thick foliage. After tracking it for days through damp forests and streams she was finally close. Hopefully, she could make the kill quickly and have a decent meal for once, all the while making some quick coin from its soft pelt.

The trees began to thin and an old stone bridge came into view, the spray from the dark water that rushed underneath it had stained it a mottled grey, she knew that it would be too cold to drink in, this far north in Cyrodiil, during winter, everything was cold. The elk halted in its steady movement, tilting its head to the side. Its ears twitched quickly before it dropped its long, muscular neck down to the water for a drink. "Yes," she whispered, all the while drawing her bow and aiming for the proud creature's neck. She let her deadly arrow fly, it whizzed through the trees. The light whoosh it made was drowned out by the crashing of water hitting the rocks when it cascaded down the dark waterfall.

Without warning the harsh noise of battle assaulted her ears as men appeared on the bridge. The elk looked up, startled. Her arrow grazed its neck making the creature run, leaped wildly over fallen branches and rocks before disappearing into the depths of the dark forest.

She looked up towards the bridge where a battle was taking place. There was a group of about thirty Nords, all wearing dark blue amour. There was only one group she knew of that wore that armor but it couldn't be them, the border was miles away. Soldiers from the Imperial legion surrounded the Nords, their blades glinted in the pale winter sun. Even though the small group of Stormcloaks were outnumbered they stood tall and proud, back to back fighting with all they had, even when they were defeated each man and woman had a defiant look as they were bound and loaded into carts. She admired their bravery but couldn't say that, if in their place, she would have done the same.

Turning away and intending to melt into the forest her plans abruptly changed when she was pulled into an armoured chest. "Where do you think you're sneaking off to?" The cool, clipped cyrodilian accent reminded her of the Imperial city and brought back memories she would prefer to keep in her past.

"I'm not _sneaking_ anywhere," her words held a bite that she couldn't seem to hold back. Surprise crossed his face when she spoke, whether it was because she was rude or her accent she didn't know, nor did she care to find out. "If you'll excuse me."

She tried to pull out of his grip but he held firm, "you are not going anywhere."

"You can't just arrest me for no reason!"

His smile dropped, "I am arresting you for rebelling against the Empire and breaching the White-Gold Concordat, if you don't come quietly I will have to use force. "All thoughts left her mind as panic took hold of her and she began a fruitless struggle against his grip. She heard a mumbled curse, felt a sharp pain in the back of her head and then there was nothing.

* * *

Her first sensation upon waking was pain, a sharp pounding ache at the base of her head, making it almost impossible to open her eyes. The second thing she noticed was the cold air assaulting her lungs and making her skin prickle in the frigid air.

For a moment she simply sat with her eyes closed and listened to the creaky wheels of the cart as it made its way up the bumpy road.

The wheel groaned as it hit a rock in the road, her eyes flew open as the cart jolted, "hey you, you're finally awake!" She met the eyes of a blonde Nord who sat across from her. "You were trying to cross the border, right? Walked right into that Imperial ambush, same as us, and that thief over there."

After a moment of confusion she remembered what had happened at the river. Her head snapped up to look out at the passing pine trees, this wasn't the forests of Cyrodiil. There was snow on the ground! It never snowed in Cyrodiil. Feeling the panic that up until now she had been able to suppress rise up in her chest making it hard to think straight; how had this happened? She was a hunter for Talos' sake not some Stormcloak fighting in a rebellion.

She looked to her left and right there was a cart holding more Stormcloaks in front and an Imperial soldier riding a horse behind, this wasn't good.

"Damn you Stormcloaks!" She looked around to see another Nord sitting beside the one in the Stormcloak uniform, while he was fair this man was dark with chocolate brown hair hanging in greasy tendrils around his grimy face. "Skyrim was fine until you came along, empire was nice and lazy. If they hadn't been looking for you, I could've stolen that horse and been halfway to Hammerfell." His face fell at the thought of the profit he had lost.

"You there." He looked over at her, "you and me, we shouldn't be here. It's these Stormcloaks the empire wants." That she could agree with. This wasn't her war and she wanted no part in it.

The Stormcloak just shook his head as he replied, "We're all brothers and sisters in binds now, _thief_." He put emphasis on the last word as if it was a curse.

The pain in her head had subsided into a dull ache as she listened to the Nords argue, there were other things or her to worry about. The warm furs she had worn had been replaced with coarse torn fabric, who had changed her? The question brought unpleasant thoughts to mind.

"Shut up back there!" It was the voice of the Imperial soldier that was driving the cart, his Cyrodiil accent that sounded so much like her own wasn't a welcome sound in the quiet of the Skyrim landscape.

"What's wrong with him?" The thief nodded his head towards the fourth bound captive in the cart. He unlike the other two was dressed in nobleman's clothes and had a dirty cloth tied around his mouth. Strange, what would the empire want with a nobleman? And why make it so that he couldn't speak?

"Watch your tongue." She looked to see the Stormcloak, she could tell by the cold look on his face that he was angry. "You're speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king."

Ulfric Stormcloak. She could feel her eyes widening, if they had caught the leader of the rebellion that did not bode well for her. The thief seemed to share her worries because his voice suddenly became high and there was panic evident in it. "Ulfric? The Jarl of Windhelm? You're the leader of the rebellion, if they've captured you...Oh gods, where are they taking us?" He began to look frantically around the cart as if looking for an escape route.

The Stormcloak looked away, down the cobbled road and said with a sad sort of finality, "I don't know where they're taking us, but Sovngarde awaits."

"No. This can't be happening, this isn't happening!" The thief had evidently began to voice his panic as he grew pale and began to shake.

"Hey, what village are you're from, horse thief?" The Stormcloak seemed to have caught on to the thief's growing panic and was trying to sooth him.

"Why do you care?"

"A Nord's last thoughts should be of home." His voice seemed to have lost its gruff edge.

"Rorikstead. I...I'm from Rorikstead." After that he remained silent, she could tell that he was thinking of his home from the slightly less grim look that had replaced his hopelessness. She wished that she had a place that she could call home, a place that held happy memories. Her life had just been a series of dismal places and people.

"And you, where are you from?" The Stormcloak had turned his attention to the girl huddled in the corner of the cart, trying to make herself as small as possible.

She seemed to contemplate the question for a moment then shook her head, "far away from here."

The Nord recoiled in shock, "That I was not expecting. Tell me," he sat forward on the bench "how does a Nord end up with that accent."

The girl shrugged, "I grew up in Cyrodiil." She was about to say more but a large structure appeared at the end of the cobbled pathway that they had been travelling on.

"General Tullius, sir, the headsman is waiting." The girl let out a little yelp at the words headsman. She had known from the moment she had woken up with her hands bound in a cart with a thief and a Stormcloak this would not end well but she had thought that it would be a few days in some Imperial holding cell not at the headsman's block.

"Good let's get this over with." Replied a low Imperial voice.

They entered into a village, quite large but nothing compared the Imperial City. All it's building were built in the usual Nordic style. Made of rough, uneven grey stone much like the paths that they had been travelling on and old wood. The roofs were made of thatch and there seemed to be an air of tension about the place. The people seemed slightly downtrodden, nobody smiled as they passed. "Shor, Mara, Dibella, Kynareth, Akatosh. Divines, please help me." She looked at the thief his state of calm had disappeared as he cried out desperately for the help she knew wouldn't come.

"Look at him," spat the Stormcloak, his face a mask of rage, "General Tullius, the military governor." She didn't bother to look up, General Tullius was a well-known name where she had grown up. "And it looks like that Thalmor are with him. Damn elves. I bet they had something to do with this."

The cart continued its slow journey through the empty streets of the town. Dread sat heavily in her stomach, she knew where this would end. The Stormcloak looked around, a wistful expression crept on to his features. "This is Helgen," he said "I used to be sweet on a girl from here. Wonder if Vilod is still making that mead with the juniper berries mixed in." His voice lost its hard edge as he spoke of the girl.

He scoffed as they passed an Imperial flag that hung outside one of the houses. "Funny, when I was a boy Imperial walls and towers used to make me feel so safe."

A small boy sat crossed legged on the porch outside of a passing house. "Who are they Daddy? Where are they going?" His voice was so full of childish innocence it made her heart ache.

A man, his father pulled him away, "You need to go inside, little cub," She could hear a slight tremor when he spoke.

"Why? I want to watch the soldiers."

His father's whole body stiffened and he moved to pull the boy up. "Inside the house, now."

They disappeared inside their cottage as the cart passed them by. Everywhere she looked stood men and women wearing the Imperial armor, they lined the streets talking in hushed tones but grew silent as the carts passed.

The cart pulled up into a large enclosed square, Imperial soldiers lined the stone walls but what distracted her was the small wooden block that sat in the middle. The chopping block. Her heart lurched as panic rose, 'this couldn't be happening' she thought. Just this morning she had been a hunter in Cyrodiil, now she was here. In Skyrim, a supposed enemy of the Empire heading for Sovngarde. "Why are we stopping?" She was growing tired of the thief, wasn't it obvious? Surely he had known how this would end from the moment he was put in a cart with Ulfric Stormcloak.

"Why do you think?" Asked the Stormcloak in a dull voice, "end of the line."

They rumbled to a stop in line with the other cart. She could see other men and women being taken out of the carts one by one and lined up in front of the tower bearing the sign of the Empire. "Let's go. Shouldn't keep the gods waiting for us."

They all stood and she quickly followed, "No wait, we're not rebels!" The horse thief's desperate plea was ignored.

"Face your death with some courage, thief." Maybe it was Nord in her but she secretly agreed with the Stormcloak. If you had to die like this, at least go with dignity.

There were two soldiers in front of them, one holding a long piece of parchment. "You've got to tell them, we weren't with you! This is a mistake." She had to admire him, at least he was persistent. But she knew that at this point no one cared whether or not they were Stormcloaks.

A woman in a captain's uniform gave them all a hard glare, "step towards the block when we call your name. One at a time." She felt her body shudder at the mention of the block, gods it was a bad way to die. She would rather she died peacefully in her sleep at a ripe old age, surrounded by grandchildren. Maybe she was coward for that, but she didn't care. Being a coward was better than this. Being a coward was better than being killed for a war she had no part in.

"Empire loves their damn lists." Muttered the Stormcloak.

The soldier beside the captain took a look at the list before he called out, with slight awe in his voice, "Ulfric Stormcloak, Jarl of Windhelm." The leader of the rebellion walked forward with his head held high.

"It has been an honour, Jarl Ulfric," called the straw haired Nord.

"Ralof of Riverwood." The Stormcloak walked forward to join his Jarl in front of the block without a glance at the Imperial soldiers.

"Lokir of Rorikstead." The thief shuddered as his name was called.

"No," he leaped forward. "I'm not a rebel, you can't do this." She shook her head, his named had been called, he would go to block.

Lokir ran past the soldiers in a desperate attempt for freedom, "halt!" called the captain. When he continued to run the captain shook her head before calling for the archers.

She looked away, "You're not going to kill me." He screamed before she heard the whiz of an arrow and his body fell to the ground with a heavy thump.

The soldiers turned away from the body and the captain gazed at the prisoners with hard eyes, "anyone else feel like running?" Her voice held a challenge, as if she were daring them to even try.

"Wait, you there." The man with list cast his eyes upon her, "Step forward." Her feet moved of their own accord and she was quickly in front of him, close enough that she see his Nordic features from under his leather helmet. "Who are you?"

"I...my name is Bellona." She hated how weak and pathetic she sounded.

He wrote something down on his list, "you picked a bad time to come to Skyrim, kinsman." Hope bubbled in her chest as the man turned to his captain, "Captain, what should we do? She's not on the list."

All her hope was quickly sundered when the captain, with a quick glance at Bellona said, "Forget the list, she goes to the block."

"By your orders captain." He gave her a sympathetic glance, "I'm sorry. At least you'll die here, in your homeland." She snorted, that was no comfort. This was the first time Bellona had ever been in Skyrim, and she would die here. Without ever seeing the land she came from. The sick irony of it all made her want to laugh and sob at the same time. "Follow the captain, prisoner."

She was put in line with all the Stormcloak beside the blond Nord from earlier. The headsman's block sat just in front of her. A huge man wielding a battleaxe stood behind it. Both Stormcloak and Imperial were silent as a dark skinned man in gold armour stepped forward to address them, General Tullius.

"Ulfric Stormcloak. Some here in Helgen call you a hero. But a hero doesn't use a power like the Voice to murder his king and usurp his throne." The General's voice rose with anger towards the end of his speech.

She now understood why he had had a cloth over his mouth. There had been rumours of how Ulfric Stormcloak had shouted High king Torrag apart with his voice but she hadn't believed it, until now that is. Ulfric tried to speak but all that came through the rag was a muffled grunt.

"You started this war," continued General Tullius smugly, "plunged Skyrim into chaos, and now the Empire is going to put you down." As he finished talking a roar was heard. The cold sound sent shivers down Bellona's spine.

"What was that?" Fear was obvious in the soldier's voice, he looked to Tullius.

The General looked to the clear, blue sky before shaking his head, "it was nothing. Carry on."

The woman in the captain's uniform straightened her back, "yes General Tullius." She turned to a priest who had been standing behind the soldiers, "give them their last rites."

The small priest stepped forward, her orange robes a stark contrast to the metallic uniform of the Imperial Legion. She began, her soft, feminine voice was all that could be heard in the tense silence. "As we commend you souls to Aetherius, blessings of the Eight Divines upon you, for you are the salt and earth of Nirn, our beloved..."

She was interrupted by a red headed Stormcloak who strode confidently forward to the block. "For the love of Talos, shut up and let's get this over with." Bellona caught her breath, she was impressed by the man's bravery.

"As you wish." The priestess' voice sounded ruffled that she didn't get to finish her rites. She quickly walked away as the Stormcloak was roughly pushed onto his knees, "Come on," he muttered harshly, "I haven't got all morning." As his head rested on the block he called out to the Imperials with a mocking voice, "my ancestors are smiling at me Imperials, can you say the same?"

The headsman lifted his axe and brought it down with one strong pull. The Stormcloaks body fell sideways as his head landed in the small basket in front of the block. She looked away, disgusted.

"You Imperial bastards," screamed one of the Stormcloaks.

"Justice!" and "Death to the Stormcloaks," was heard all around them as Ralof muttered softly beside her, "as fearless in death as he was in life."

"Next, the Nord in the rags." Bellona felt her chest constrict, that was her. The bone-chilling roar filled her ears again as she moved forward, but this time it was closer.

"There it is again, did you hear that?"

The captain paid no attention, her eyes were on Bellona, "I said next prisoner!"

"To the block prisoner, nice and easy." She moved, in a trance, towards the block, stepping over the headless body of the Stormcloak as she went. A boot pushed her down onto the chopping block. She could feel the warm blood of the man beside her on her neck it's metallic smell hit her nostrils. This was it, she was going to die.

All she could hear was her heartbeat in her ears as the headsman lifted his axe, and then she saw it. A black giant in the sky. Its midnight wings and ebony scales seemed to swallow the daylight and block out the sun. "What in Oblivion is that?"

She heard nothing as the beast landed on top of the tower, its blood red eyes looked through the crowd and landed on her. It was scream of "Dragon!" And the sound of swords being drawn that made the monster turn its fiery gaze away from her. It let out a mighty roar that sent her ears ringing and hit her like a physical blow, the sky grew dark with angry clouds, and lightning filled the air.

"Guards get the townspeople to safety." Imperial soldiers sprinted away and people screamed, crying out for help.

She felt a hand on her shoulder, "Hey, Kinsman," it was Ralof, he had a battle-axe in his hand and a mad glint in his eye. "Get up! Come on, the gods won't give us another chance." She stumbled to her feet, bound hands getting in the way as she blindly followed him into the watchtower as fire fell from the skies.

The door closed behind them and she couldn't help but let out a sob of relief. She was safe, if only for now.

* * *

 **So that's it, tell me what you think. (That's my thinly veiled plea for a review).** **The dialogue was borrowed heavily from the game as I've spent weeks religiously watching silent walkthroughs to get it right!**

 **Thanks for reading. x**


	2. Chapter 2

Bellona let out a breath as the door slammed shut. She could still hear the anguished cries of the people outside and the deafening roar of the black beast but inside the watch tower it was muted and far away. It took a minute for her eyes to adjust. She was in a small room, two injured Stormcloaks were sprawled out on the damp stone, grime covered their faces, she was sure that her's looked the same.

The metallic stench of blood filled the air and she had to choke the bile rising in her throat. "Jarl Ulfric!" said Ralof, his voice devoid of fear. "What is that thing? Could the legends be true?"

Ulfric looked to the door for a moment, his face grim before he replied in a grave voice, "Legends don't burn down villages." Her breath caught, so it was a dragon. She shivered as another roar tore through the air sounding to all the world like an avenger sent by the gods. "We need to move. Now!" Shouted the Jarl. As one the ragtag band of Stormcloaks began to move.

Ralof turned to her, his voice raised, "Up through the tower, let's go." A small part of her wondered why they helped her she was, after all, a stranger. For all they knew she could be an Imperial spy, Not that she had any love for the Empire, and after being sent to the block for a crime she didn't commit could anyone blame her? With tentative steps she followed Ralof up the crumbling steps, the voices of the men behind muffled by the heart beat pounding in her ears. The torches on the wall did nothing to calm her fears as the flickering shadows only added to the hellish nightmare of her reality.

Up ahead there were two more soldiers trying to clear an exit but with terrifying ease the wall collapsed on top of them as the head of the black dragon appeared before her. With a roar a torrent of flames was released from its jagged maw. She felt the flames ghost over her skin but she ignored the pain. The two Stromcloakes were gone, buried in the rubble of the wall. The black dragon had moved away but she could still feel its oppressive presence and see the rage in its fiery gaze. All she could hear was her frantic heartbeat pounding in her ear, this was oblivion felt like.

Through the hole in the watchtower the destructive power of the dragon could be seen in its full glory. Helgan lay in ruins: the thatched roofs of the buildings were no match for the fire, and the power of the imperial legion had been brought to its knees in minutes. Ralof came to stand beside her, "See that roof on the other side? Jump through and keep going,"

Before she could protest Ralof pushed her roughly from the watchtower and she landed with a grunt of pain on the upper floor of a burning house. Her tied hands getting in the way as she stumbled towards the hole in the floor. When she glanced back Ralof was gone from the watchtower, he had most likely gone to find an escape route leaving her to find her own way out, not that she could blame him, he had done more than she would have for a stranger. When she reached the ground there was a small group of men crouching below a wall. She recognised one of them as being the man from before with the list, the one who had tried to free her.

He turned to look at her, "still alive prisoner? Keep close to me if you want to stay that way." he finished gruffly before drawing his sword and moving off towards the smoking ruins. She looked up to see the dragon circling above. She shivered, monsters like that should only exist in stories and legends. "Gunnar, take care of the boy. I have to find General Tullius and join the defence." Bellona had decided that she hated the name Tullius.

"Gods guide you, Hadvar."

Hadvar guided her back towards the courtyard, the block all but forgotten as archers let loose volley after volley of arrows. Nothing seemed to make a difference; the steel tipped arrows bounced harmlessly off the dragons dark scales, people were lying on the cobbles, burns covering their faces. The dragon began swooping down and picking up the soldiers. Hadvar pushed on "it's you and me, prisoner. Stay close!" he had to shout over the wing beats of the dragon.

The two of them came to the entrance of the keep. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw Ralof standing by the entrance, battered but alive. "Ralof! You damned traitor. Out of my way."

Ralof ran up to them, "we're escaping, Hadvar. You're not stopping up this time." It looked as if the two were going to begin fighting but the dragon flew overhead and both momentarily stopped to stare. She didn't dare look, every time she even thought about the red eyes her body seized up in fear.

"Fine," hissed Hadvar, "I hope that dragon takes you all to Sovngarde!"

Ralof looked at her, "You! Come on, into the keep!" She barely spared Hadvar a look before following Ralof into the keep.

It was eerily silent within the stone walls, she could barely hear the roar of the dragon as it passed overhead. She looked around the small room, there were three ways out and one of them was completely out of the question. All around her the mark of the Imperial legion mocked her. It was ironic, when she thought about it, the sigil of the Empire was a dragon, it was fitting somehow. While she looked around Ralof had immediately crouched beside the body of a man in the Stormcloak cuirass, Ralof closed his eyes. "We'll meet again in Sovngarde, brother," he said softly.

Bellona shifted her feet, she was unused to people showing emotions, never mind a man and a Nord at that. Where she had grown up everything was a weakness, including friends. It had been a long time since she felt longing for someone to care about her and she didn't like it. "Did you know him well," she asked quietly, nodding towards the dead Nord.

Ralof smiled but said nothing on the subject, he stood suddenly. "Looks like we're the only ones who made it." his voice took on an awed edge, "that thing was a dragon. No doubt. Just like the children stories and the legends. The harbingers of the End Times."

She felt numb, her pain from before had disappeared and the constant thrum of her heartbeat in her ears had now increased. How could dragons even exist? They had died out generations ago. 'What a fine time to see my homeland' she though darkly, 'with the land ravaged by Imperials and Stormcloaks and the skies filled with dragon fire!'

"We'd better get moving," he continued, "come here, let me see if I can get those bindings off." she held out her hands gratefully, almost sighing with relief when her abused wrists were free from the burning rope. "There you go. You may as well take Gunjar's gear. He won't be needing it anymore." he finished bitterly.

She threw on the warm furs and picked up the axe, while Ralof looked for a way out. She turning towards the gate just as two Imperials walked through. Without a though she lunged, there was no rhythm in her fight and she thought of nothing but the fire that filled her veins when she fought. Within minutes it was over and the two lay dead before her. Ralof looked at her with admiration, "not even a scratch," he said quietly. She shrugged it off, uncomfortable: she had always been stronger than the others but she had put it down to her Nordic heritage, but the way Ralof looked at her told a different story.

"Maybe one of these Imperial has a key." She quickly looked through the Captain's clothing, swapping her axe for the sword as well as taking a small key she had found in the inside pocket.

"Here." she thrust the key at him before going to stand by the barred door. The gate screamed in protest as it swung open on rusted nails, she thanked Talos that it had opened at all.

"That's it! Come on," he said hurriedly with a glance at the roof where small bits or mortar were falling, "let's get out of here before the dragon brings the whole tower down on our heads." That was all the incentive she needed to follow him into the bowls of the keep.

They ran in silence deeper into the keep, with a sharp pull Ralof held her back just as part of the roof collapsed in, blocking the corridor in front of them, an ominous growl came from above them. With her heart in her throat she turned to Ralof and with the all the sincerity she could muster up said, "thank you."

He grunted in response, "Damn that dragon doesn't give up easy."

'I would had died' she thought numbly. Pushing that thought to the back of her mind she faced the door where faint voices could be heard. The sharp cyrodiilian accent caught her notice, it was more imperials. She was in this whole absurd situation because of them and she let that thought fuel her anger as she charged blindly into the next room, Ralof letting out a shout of surprise before drawing his axe and following. Two soldiers met them and she cut them down within seconds her movement a blur as anger purged her mind of every thought but to fight.

She took one deep breath once it was over to calm her mind, "how did you do that?"

She didn't look at him, "Do what?"

He said nothing for a moment and she turned, he was giving her a calculating look, "where did you learn to fight."

"I didn't," she moved on quickly before he could ask questions, it seemed to her that even in Skyrim she was an oddity.

They passed through the store room without talking as they left he stopped running for a moment, "What's your name? I realised that I don't know it."

"Bellona." she said surprised.

"Bellona," he said slowly his accent highlighting the 'bell' at the start, it sounded better, she realised, when a Nord said it, it sounded right. "A strong name, a warrior's name." He moved on without speaking and she was left to puzzle about the strangeness of Nord men.

They turned another corner and she could now hear frantic shouting from the room below, he cursed, "Troll's blood! It's a torture room." Her breath caught, she had been in torture rooms too many times before and she didn't want to revisit those memory, ever. "Come on."

The room was chaos, there were Stormcloaks and Imperials everywhere she looked, reminding her so much of the how she ended up her in the first place, yet this time it was different the Stormcloaks fought with a ferocity only a desperate man can match. Bolts of magic filled the air, making her skin tingle, she knew the most basic of spells which consisted of healing and fire, both came in handy when you were on a hunt and had only damp wood, she had never used it for fighting, never even considered it. She hadn't even reached for her sword by the time the short lived battle was over, the Imperials lay in an unceremonious heap in the room, blood pooling beneath them, filling the air with the metallic smell.

"Was Jarl Ulfric with you?" asked Ralof worriedly to the new Stormcloaks.

"No, I haven't seen him since the dragon showed up."

Ralof frowned, a crease appearing between his pale eyes, "He will be fine." He didn't sound sure to her but then again she hadn't know him very long. He walked over to the row of cages she had been studiously avoiding, "it looks like there's someone in there." he said in disgust.

She walked over to his side, ignoring the cautious glances she received from the other Stormcloaks, it was a mage. He lay sprawled in the corner in a pool of dried blood. How long he had been there, she refused to think about. Bile rose in her throat as memories came back to her, it was all the same. The moss covered walls, the small rusted cells that were just too small. It was identical right down to the awful instrument in the corner. Phantom pain sprouted across her limbs in remembrance.

"Are you alright?" Ralof's concerned face swam back into view, she nodded clutching the amulet she always wore, the familiar shape of the anvil reassuring her, she had to wonder why they had allowed her to keep it. "Here," Ralof handed her a few lock picks, his face still wary "see if you can get it open with some picks. Might need that gold once we get out." She almost laughed outright, she had been picking locks and pickpocketing for as long as she could remember, there was no question that she could open it.

She made quick work of the lock, the soldiers giving her dangerous looks at the ease she had opened it with. She shrugged, she wasn't ashamed of her background and they would have done the same if they had been as hungry as she had been. She ignored the mage, looking at him would make her vomit, of that she was sure. Pocketing the few septims and the potion she exited the cage and headed towards the door.

"Are you sure you can trust her?" one of the Stormcloaks whispered to Ralof. Her back stiffened, hands tightening on the hilt of her sword.

Ralof chuckled, "with my life, heart of a Companion she has." she relaxed immediately. It was at that moment she decided she liked that someone trusted her, there had been no trust on the streets of the Imperial city. It felt nice. No one questioned her after that and all that was heard was the soft mummers of the soldiers as they ran and the occasional faint growl of the dragon, when that happened a faint shiver crept down her back, she hoped to the nine that she never encountered a dragon again, for the sake of her sanity.

They continued to go deeper into the keep, she refused to look at the skeletons suspended in animal cages than hung from the roof. This must have been an old part of the keep for all there to be left of the horrors that went on were bones. Ralof came to her side when she had stopped to stare at more cages, "Better to stick together down here." he explained gently, she knew that wasn't the reason and she was thankful he didn't say it outright, that he knew she was scared, she didn't think her pride could handle it.

They came to another large room, she didn't even have time to question why there was water running through the middle of it. Imperials filled the room, the Stormclaoks descended unto them in a frenzy of weapons and war cries of "Imperial dogs!" She lost herself in the movements of battle, this she knew how to do and she could fight. She cut down any who came her way with the ease of the seasoned warrior that she was. In a moment of weakness her sword was knocked out of her hand and an imperial's cruel eyes met hers. She did the only thing she could and summoned fire into her palms, he looked surprised for a moment before the glassy look of death overtook his face.

She picked up his sword and cleaned off the blood on his amour, Ralof ran up to her slightly out of breath with a cut running down his arm, "So you're a mage as well as a warrior, what else are you hiding? Are you a priest as well?"

She smiled faintly, "you don't know the half of it."

His grin faded as his eye went to her left shoulder eyes widening, "that looks like it hurts." he said with sympathy.

She looked to see the tip of an arrow had pierced the flesh on her shoulder, without blinking she pulled it out and threw it on the floor. Ralof looked at her with wide eyes, "What?"

"Why did you do that?"

She shrugged, barely feeling the twinge of pain caused by the already healing wound, "It won't heal if I leave the arrowhead in."

"Don't you feel pain?" He asked incredulously.

"It's already healing." she turned to show him the wound that now looked a day old.

"You were right," he said faintly, "I don't know the half of it."

The moved through the room and she was too caught up to see the sidelong glances he threw her way. She didn't understand, did no one else heal quickly? What made her different? It was that question she had asked herself her whole life, Bellona had always known that there was something odd about her. Unlike the other children she had grown strong with barely any food, she had been faster, stronger and more resilient than the others. While they died from sicknesses, she hardly felt them at all, she needed less sleep yet had more energy and stamina then all of them put together. At the time she had just assumed it was because she was Nord, yet even in Skyrim she was different, she didn't like the feeling at all.

She didn't pay attention as Ralof lowered a drawbridge, they both crossed at a walk as the moment her feet touched the other side the ground began to tremble, with a groan a large rock fell from the ceiling and splintered the bridge. Ralof turned to her and said with a strained smile, "no going back that way, now." She felt the strain as well, it seemed like they had been under the keep for hours and they were no closer to escaping than they had been before. 'At least there was no dragon down here' she though glumly. "Better push on. The rest of them will just have to find another way out."

They moved on, following the path of the river. The glacial waters freezing her toes as it soaked though her fur boots. The passages had gotten colder as they went: becoming more like a cave than the Helgan keep corridors from before, that had to be a good sign.

Her thoughts went back to the dragon as they went into yet another chamber, this one was more like a cave than what she had seen so far, she was hardly shocked when they fought spiders the size of her, she had seen a dragon and felt it's fire on her skin, she didn't think that anything could surprise her anymore. Ralof didn't say anything except, "I hate those damn things. Too many eyes, you know?"

They moved into the largest cavern yet where a bear slept near the back, "Hold up. There's a bear just ahead. See her?" at that point she was far beyond questioning how a bear ended up under Helgan, although she wasn't too sure where they were anymore, there was no to judge the time but estimated they had been in the cave system for a few hours so they could be anywhere.

Ralof crouched as he whispered into her ear, "I'd rather not tangle with her right now. Let's try to sneak by. Just take it nice and slow, and watch where you step." He handed her a longbow and a pack of arrows, the familiar feel of the bow in her hand was a comfort, "Or if you're feeling lucky, you can take this bow. Might take her by surprise. Go ahead. I'll follow your lead and watch your back." He had said that with a sincerity that she was unused to, it was reassuring to have someone to look out for her, almost like a friend.

With practised ease she drew the bow and took aim, the arrow it its mark with the precision that took years to master. The bear didn't even make a sound as it died. She put the bow on her back and stood out of the crouch and turned to Ralof, "I was a hunter back in Cyrodiil." she said to his unasked question.

He whistled in appreciation, "you're a dark horse, you know that? You seemed so helpless and small whenever we were in the cart, especially for a Nord. Then I find out you could probably kill me in five different ways before I could even draw my axe."

She smiled, "looks can be deceiving. I always thought that Nords were these big heartless brutes, but you're alright." Her reward for that comment was a real smile, one that reached his eyes.

"We're going to be good friends, you and me."

'Friends' she mused silently, 'it sounded nice'.

As they left the chamber a chilly wind brushed against her cheeks in a cold caress. The entrance had to near if there was wind. They turned the last corner and Ralof shouted in triumph, "That looks like the way out! I knew we'd make it!"

She stepped out into the day, the wintry sunlight blinding her for a moment. What she saw wasn't the soft green fields and shrubs of Cyrodiil but the harsh and beautiful landscape of her homeland, and it was one of the best sites she had ever seen.


	3. Chapter 3

Snow lay on the ground and on the tall pine trees that surrounded the small cave opening they stood at. The air was cold and fresh, the cool temperature not bothering her as it had before, 'so this was home' she thought. It was nothing like Cyrodiil, everything here was sharp, haggard and pale, much like the Nords that lived there.

"Wait!" Said Ralof sharply holding her back and shoving her down behind a rock. The black dragon flew overhead, a groaning roar piercing the tranquil peace of the Skyrim landscape. Those dark scales seemed to absorb all the light around them and radiating darkness. It flew over her head and out towards the mountains in the distance. She watched its flight transfixed until it disappeared from sight. "There he goes. Looks like he's gone for good this time."

At his words she let out a breath, the magnitude of her situation finally hit her. She was in Skyrim with a Stormcloak and she had just escaped from a dragon attack after being arrested for treason against the Empire. The urge to laugh overwhelmed her and she had to lean on Ralof to stop from falling. When she was done she realised that he was staring at her like she had gone mad. "I'm fine," she reassured him, wiping away the tears that had gathered in her eyes, "I just realised how ridiculous my life is."

He chuckled along with her, "just another day in Skyrim, my friend." He looked back at the cave. "No way to know if anyone else made it out alive. But this place is going to be swarming with Imperials soon enough. We'd better clear out of here." She didn't have anywhere to go, she didn't even have a map.

As if he had heard her inner turmoil he said while walking, "my sister Gerdur runs the mill in Riverwood, just up the road. I'm sure she'd help you out." They ran on until their dirt path joined with a cobbled road, Ralof stopped. Here," he handed her an old piece of parchment, it was a map of the province. "You need it more than I do. It's probably best if we split up. Good luck. I wouldn't have made it out alive without your help today."

"Where are you headed?"

"I don't know, maybe Windhelm and get back to the fighting. You know, you should go to Windhelm too and join the fight to free Skyrim. You've seen the true face of the Empire today." That she had, she had had little love for the Empire growing up how she had and today had solidified her opinion. There was no love lost between her and the Imperial Legion. "If anyone will know what the dragons means, it will be Jarl Ulfric."

"I might, does the road to Windhelm happen to pass through Riverwood?" she asked hopefully.

He laughed, "that it does."

"Well, then I suggest we get moving, before the Imperials catch us...again."

They walked down the road at a slow jog, everywhere she looked there was jagged mountains sticking out of the earth like spines, one mountain in particular towered over the others looking like a hand , reaching for the heavens. Everything was so different here, it was all glacial lakes and snow-capped peaks. "This is your first time in Skyrim, isn't it?" he asked, breaking her panorama of her surroundings.

"How could you tell?"

"You have the look."

"The look?"

"You have the same look that every child has when they go on their first adventure," he explained with a smile. "You look green."

"I am not a child, in fact I'd wager that we're the same age."

"It isn't age that determines when we leave our childhood behind."

Her smile faded, "you're right. I never had a childhood." He looked at her apologetically, "I don't want to talk about myself, tell me about Gerdur."

She listened quietly to Ralof talking about his childhood with Gerdur and how his father had fought in the Great War. He said it was the reason he was a Stormcloak, to honour his father and his family, make a better world for them. It was a nice sentiment but she had no one to make the world better for, and she honestly didn't care if it all ended in oblivion, not anymore.

He stopped and pointed towards three large arches that rose up from the side of the mountain like black talons. "See that ruin up? Bleak Falls Barrow. I never understood how my sister could stand lying in the shadow of that place, I guess you get used to it." He shrugged and moved along the path. She looked up at the dark ruins once more and shivered, she had a bad feeling about it .When she turned the next corner Ralof stood at the foot of three wooden monuments, each with old Nordic designs etched onto the ageing wood, "these are the Guardian Stones, three of the thirteen ancient standing stones that dot Skyrim's landscape."

She walked up onto the platform, "What are they for?"

"Go ahead, see for yourself."

Now that she was closer she could see that each of them had a figure on the bottom. There was a thief creeping on the left, a warrior on the right and a mage in the middle. She tentatively placed her hand on the warrior's stone. It began to glow softly and a beam of light shot straight into the heavens. "What happened?"

"Warrior, good! May the stars lead you to honour and glory." He decided to take pity on her confused look. "Sorry, I forgot you didn't grow up here. The standing stones help you develop skills, you picked the warrior, it will help you become a better blades man or whatever weapon you should choose."

"Really?"

"You sound surprised, did you not have magic in Cyrodiil?"

She shook her head, "not in that way. I mean we had the Cynod but nothing like this." She continued to give the stones a slightly awed look.

"You'll like Skyrim. Come on," he gestured towards the road, "We're almost to Riverwood."

Just over the last, small hill on the road a large wooden gatehouse came into view, men and women wearing amour similar to the one she had one except they wore a yellow sash, stood watch on the upper level of the gate and some walked the street of the small village. Children ran along the path laughing as they played, there was a small forge and she could hear the saw of the mill. It was a sweet little place.

"It looks like nobody here knows what's happened yet. Come on. Gerdur's probably working in her lumber mill."

As they walked through the entrance she could hear a whispered conversation to her right, " A dragon! I saw a dragon!" An elderly woman was pointing frantically to the sky.

"What? What is it now mother?" Asked a young blond man irritably.

Ralof evidently heard the hushed conversation too because he hurried his pace across the small bridge to where she could see a mill being worked.

A tall Nord woman stood, moving pieces of wood into places, "Gerdur!" Said Ralof with obvious relief.

She immediately dropped the wood and ran to greet him, "brother! Mara's mercy it's good to see you." She frowned, "but is it safe for you to be here? We heard Ulfric had been captured..."

"Gerdur, I'm fine. At least now I am."

"Are you hurt?" She began to check him over with a critical eye, looking for injuries. The blatant affection she had for her brother made Bellona slightly uncomfortable, she wasn't used to this. "What's happened? And who's this? One of you comrades?"

Ralof put a hand on her shoulder, "not a comrade yet, but a friend. I owe her my life, in fact." Gerdur's face softened as he said that and she smiled warmly at Bellona. "Is there somewhere we can talk? There's no telling when the news from Helgan will reach the Imperials..."

Gerdur cut him off, her head snapping his direction, "Helgan? Has something happened?" she asked worriedly. "You're right. Follow me." She set off, with a quick pace, towards a secluded area of the mill, where the bank sloped down into the river. "Hod," she shouted, "come here a minute. I need your help with something."

"Ralof, what are you doing here?" Came the rough voice from somewhere to her right, he laughed, "I'll be right down."

A small child ran up to Ralof, a shock of blond hair on his head. She watched them as they conversed. The boy asked a stream of questions and Ralof, with a laugh answered. 'So this was a family, it seemed so easy for them' she shook herself from the thought as Ralof sent the boy on a 'mission' effectively removing him from the conversation.

Another man walked up to them as the child ran away, "now, Ralof, what's going on. You two look pretty done in."

Ralof sat down heavily on a nearby tree stump, "I can't remember when I last slept." He said wearily. Nor could she for that matter, discounting the time she spent unconscious it must have been four or five days since she last slept, and many weeks since she spent the night in a bed. "Where to Start? Well the news you heard about Ulfric was true. The Imperials ambushed us outside Darkwater Crossing. Like they knew exactly where we'd be. That was...two days ago now." Had it really been two days? She had been unconscious in the back of the cart for that long? "We stopped in Helgan this morning, and I thought it was all over. Had us lined up the headman's block and ready to start chopping."

Gerdur gasped, "the cowards!"

Ralof nodded, "they wouldn't dare give Ulfric a fair trial." He spat, "treason for fighting for your own people? All of Skyrim would have seen the truth then." He leaned forward, "but then...out of nowhere...a dragon attacked..."

Both Gerdur and Hod took a step back, "You don't mean a real, live..." she trailed off, a shake in her voice.

"I can hardly believe it myself," he said tiredly" and I was there. As strange as it sounds, we'd be dead if not for that dragon. In the confusion we managed to slip away." Pausing for a moment Ralof turned to smile at her. "Are we really the first to make it to Riverwood?"

Gerdur nodded grimly, "nobody else has come up the south road today, as far as I know."

"Good." he said, "Maybe we can lay up for a while. I hate to put your family in danger Gerdur but..."

She cut him off with a sharp look, "Nonsense. You and your friend are welcome to stay here as long as you need to. Let me worry about the Imperials." Gerdur turned to her with a smile, "any friend of Ralof's is a friend of mine."

"I...thank you." She said quietly, almost wanting to cry from relief, the day's terrors catching up with her quite suddenly.

"Here's a key to the house." Gerdur pressed the small key into her palm, "Stay as long as you like. If there's anything else you need, just let me know. There is something you could do for me. For all of us here. The Jarl needs to know if there's a dragon on the loose. Riverwood is defenceless. We need to get word to Jarl Balgruuf in Whiterun to send whatever troops he can. If you'll do that for me, I'll be in your debt."

She smiled, "of course, I want an adventure and Whiterun seems like as good a place as any to start."

Hod laughed, "so you wish to seek fame and glory?"

She shook her head, "freedom and gold."

Ralof grinned and said with a chuckle, "I like the way you think, woman."

"I had better get back to work before I'm missed but...did anyone else escape? Did Ulfric..."

Ralof's carefree smile faded with the serious question, "Don't worry," he said reassuringly, "I'm sure he made it out. It'll take more than a dragon to stop Ulfric Stormcloak." Bellona wasn't as sure, even in the Imperial City, Ulfric Stormcloak was a walking legend, but she had met him. He could burn just like the rest of them.

Hod interrupted Ralof, "I'll show them into the house and, you know, show them where everything is."

Gerdur's serious expression faded to be replaced with a gentle smile, "Hmph. Help them drink up our mead, you mean. Good luck, brother. I'll see you later."

"Don't worry about me, I know how to lay low."

Ralof fell into step with her as Hod led them to his home. All around them the sounds of birds could be heard over the happy chatter of the people who walked the street. It was so different from the horrors of that morning; fire everywhere she looked, the smell of burning flesh...she pushed the memories away, now wasn't the time to think about them. A few people gave the two of them disapproving looks. "Why do they look at us like that?"

Ralof spat on the ground, "Imperial supporters. They bow to the elves."

"Won't they tell the Imperials we're here?" Worry was evident in her hurried whisper.

"No," he said just as softly, "I grew up here. These people may side with the Empire but they won't tell them about us. They're good people, just misguided."

She nodded and they spent the rest of the short journey to the house in comfortable silence.

When the door closed behind them she felt the last bit of tension she had leaver her body. She and Ralof took a seat at the table and Hod went to get some mead. "So, how was your first day in Skyrim?" Ralof's eyes were smiling.

"More eventful than any before it." As Hod sat down and handed them both a bottle she took out the map Ralof had given her. She took a quill from the table and drew two small houses where Helgan and Riverwood were. She drew in the Guardian stones as well as the cave they had used to escape the dragon.

"What are you doing?" Asked Hod curiously.

"Remembering. Is there a place I can get supplies here?" She asked.

"There's a traders on the main road, across from the blacksmith."

"What do you need?"

She lifted up the blue Stormcloak sash, "I think I need something less conspicuous and maybe some more arrows." She stood up, "I'll be back soon."

They gave her a curt nod and went back to their conversation about the war.

As she walked down the street people gave her curious, if a bit hostile, glances. At least she knew that the Whiterun hold was predominately Imperial, she became increasingly uncomfortable with the stares and the empty traders was a welcome change. The air was tense in the enclosed space, the two Imperials had obviously been in an argument from the way they refused to make eye contact with each other.

She walked up to the counter where the man was eyeing her uniform wearily. "What will you give me for this?" She put the axe she had taken from Helgan onto the counter. His nose crinkled at the blood stains on the blade.

He examined it for a moment, "I can swap it for some new armour." She knew he was eyeing the ripped and battered uniform she wore. Nodding in thanks she handed her over the axe and took the armour. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed an old brown journal, "How much for that?"

The man shrugged, "no one wants it. I'll sell it to you for three septums."

She nodded, "I'll take it."

She walked back to Gerdur's house, "you should join in the war effort Hod, we could use more men like you."

"I would Ralof, by the nine I would but I have Frodnar to think about. I can't afford to go off to war, not now."

They looked up as the door opened, "you're back."

She sat down heavily, "you didn't tell me this hold favoured the Imperials. They might not inform on you but I'm a stranger here. I should go."

"You really don't trust people, do you?"

"I've never been given a reason to. Ralof, you and your family are the first good people I've met in almost ten years."

The two men shifted uncomfortably under the praise she gave them, deciding to take pity on them she quickly changed the subject, "has something happened with the traders, they seemed stressed?"

Hod grimaced, "that'd be Lucan and Camilla Valerius. They had been bragging about some priceless Nordic artefact last week, a golden claw. Then a group of bandits stole it and ran off to Bleak Falls Barrow," Hod shivered," Talos only knows why."

Their conversation was interrupted when Gerdur entered the house, Frodnar hot on her heels. She threw her gloves by the door and went straight to the cooking pot to begin making dinner.

Later that night, with her stomach full and her bones warm she opened the brown journal that would become her companion throughout her travels and wrote on the first page.

Ralof suggested that we head to the nearby town of Riverwood. His sister owns a lumbermill there and should be able to help us. Ralof's sister Gerdur asked me to take word to the Jarl of Whiterun of the dragon attack on Helgen, and to ask the Jarl to send soldiers to protect Riverwood.

She carefully placed the book under the small pillow she had on her makeshift bed on Gerdur's floor, before closing her eyes and drifting off into an uneasy sleep.

She was standing in front of a wall, runic marking covered it's smooth surface. It looked like nothing man could have built, its beauty harsh and cruel, with a dragon's skull perched on the top looking like it was set there to guard this sacred stone, the monument stood alone and out of place yet looked like it had been there longer than the land around it.

No wind prickled her skin and not a soul could be seen for leagues in any direction. Yet it wasn't quiet, she could just make out low, guttural mutterings in a strange language she could almost understand. As she moved towards the wall, the voices steadily got louder until they seemed to be shouting, desperately trying to make her understand, but she couldn't. The markings on the wall began to glow faintly. Streams of light flew out from them, forcing their way into her body.

The voices rose to screams as her head was filled with images of flying high over the earth, going higher with each powerful wingbeat. All humans below nothing more than insignificant pinpricks in her vision, and when they saw her, they cowered in fear. For she was immortal, she was a god.

A power she had never known built up in her lungs, an exhilarating heat pulsing in her chest. It was forced out of her in one powerful roar that reverberated around her in the still air. Once the power left, she weak once more, the voices grew louder, rising and falling in tandem with her erratic heartbeat. They pleaded with her desperately, needing her to understand. It was all too much.

Her vision tunnelled as the streams of lights became brighter and brighter, she sank to the ground clutching her head. The terrible power rose in her lungs again more powerful than before. The shout she released shook the earth and the skies, rocks began to fall from the heavens like stars shooting towards her with a terrifying speed, they struck the wall and the lights dimmed and the voices grew faint.

"Wake up!" Rough hands held onto her shoulders and sweat soaked her brow, Ralof sat above her, a relieved expression on his face. "That must have been some dream."

She sat up, the plain wooden walls of the house looked safe and secure, "Only a dream." she mummered. It had felt so real, the power within her different yet right. Those voices... she shivered, not wanting to think about it.

"You were muttering a strange language and thrashing about, I was worried."

She pushed her sweaty hair out of the way, "thanks, but I'm alright." The early morning sunlight seeped through the crack below the door, it must have been early morning for the rest of the house was quiet. She threw the thin cover off herself and changed quickly into her new armour.

"Where are you going?"

"Whiterun." she looked back, to where Gerdur and Hod lay asleep, "Give them my thanks Ralof, I'm grateful, for everything."

He scrambled to his feet, pulling on the uniform, "I'll come with you," he said.

"No, stay with your family. Gerdur obviously worries about you, stay with her a while longer." His resolved seemed to crumble when he took a look at his sister's sleeping face.

"You're right," he said softly. "But at least wait until they wake and say a proper goodbye."

She shook her head, "I looked at the map, it will take me several hours to reach Whiterun on foot, and I want to get there early." She knew he saw the sense in her plan because he didn't question it again. Before she could talk herself out of it she gave him a hug. "Talos guard you, Ralof."

He smiled, "I have a feeling this isn't a permanent goodbye, my friend."

She stepped out into the sunlight with a smile on her face. Only the guards walked the streets, none of them glancing her way except for their customary "no lollygaging."

She walked quickly and quietly, taking the land around her. It was so different from what she was used to; the craggy mountains and the spine like trees that rose from the frosted ground like the teeth of some primordial beast, were a world away from the tame and cultivated Cyrodiil.

As she made her way down the cobbled path she had a chance to think about everything that had happened, she was in Skyrim! Yesterday she had been nothing, no one, a simple waif desperately trying to survive and now... she was a friend of Stormcloaks, a warrior. For the first time Bellona felt like herself. She felt like a Nord.

She walked until the sun was high in the sky, nothing more than a few wolves bothered her as she gazed upon her homeland.

In the quiet countryside she had time to think about Helgan, and she wished she didn't. The fear she had felt looking at the great beast was like nothing she had felt before, as if she were staring into the face of deaths itself. Yet there was something achingly familiar about the way the powerful body had sliced through the sky; she felt something stir within her, a longing or a memory. 'None of it made sense' she thought frustrated with herself.

As she was lost in her thoughts the road had widened and the welcome sight of tall spires and smoking chimneys came into view. So this was Whiterun. She had to admit it had a wild kind of beauty that seemed to fit perfectly with the land around it: its crumbling walls looked like they had been there as long as the mountains that surrounded it. It looked lived- in instead of the pristine cities of southern Tamerial that were built more to impress than to be lived in, Whiterun looked homely if not particularly impressive save for the sky-scraping towers of the legendary keep, Dragonsreach.

A small convoy of Imperial soldiers appeared before her on the road ahead, in between them was a battered, barefooted man in rags, his hands were bound and bleeding. In that moment she was back at the chopping block, the black dragon blocking the light of the sun and the smell of blood and fire assaulted her senses. Her vision tunnelled.

"Citizen." The guards grew stiff as she stalked forwards, "I'm warning you." There was a tense, even fearful, edge in his voice at the formidable sight she undoubtedly presented. "Your presence is interfering with Imperial business. Be gone!"

She didn't think, she didn't want to. Her anger and fear ruled her and the soldiers didn't stand a chance. She was faster, stronger and with fire in her blood and fury in her heart she descended upon them in a deadly hurricane of steel.

The imperials didn't even have time to defend themselves before she was upon them: hacking and slashing without rhythm or grace and she didn't need any. She forgot everything save the bloodlust coursing through her veins and a carnal need to hurt something, anything. Her movement were blurred and her blows were dealt with such force than even trained soldiers couldn't defend against them. They were dead before the fight began.

Breathing heavily and covered in the blood of the men she had slaughtered did Bellona finally came back to her senses. And with her return to reality came the horrifying realisation of what she had done, she had killed those men in cold blood...and enjoyed it. She was certain now, something dark and powerful had awoken within her when she gazed into the eyes of the dragon, something animalistic and it scared her.

In a contemplative daze she marched down the well-worn path that led to the hold capital. What was wrong with her? The power, the fire she felt wasn't normal but it felt right, like everything up until that moment when she saw the dragon had been insignificant.

Her thoughts then wandered to Gerdur and Ralof, she had never had friends before and the key in her bag was a welcome weight. By this time she imagined that Ralof would be on his way to Windhelm, and despite her short acquaintance with her new friend she worried for him, and hoped he wouldn't be any battles in the coming days.

She pushed her thoughts aside in favour of staring that the land around her. Now that she was closer she could fully comprehend how beautiful Whiterun was, in that rugged Nordic way.

The small houses with side of the stone road looked cheerful, if not a bit worn. People smiled as she passed, barely sparing her bloodied armour a second glance.

"Now that's taken care of. No thanks to you." Called out a loud voice.

Bellona turned, a query on her lips, to her left where three haggard Nords stood over the body of a giant. In the middle of them stood a man a least twice her width, a bloody great-sword at his side. "I'm sorry," she said feeling tired and offended at the way these Nords were regarding her, "but who are you?"

"An outsider, eh?" The huntress looked proudly at her brother in arms. "Never heard of the Companions? An order of warriors. We are brothers and sisters in honour. And we show up to solve problems, if the coin's good enough." At that the three shared a smile, it was easy to see the bond between them and how proud they were to be Companions. She was sure that she had heard that mentioned before but quickly dismissed it, she would think about that later.

"Sounds good," she said absent-mindedly in reply, her mind already back the task she had promised to complete for Gerdur. She walked away before hearing the rest of the conversation, determined to talk the Jarl before anything bad happened to Riverwood.

After a short-lived argument with the guard she was in the city making her way to the 'the cloud district' as she had been so graciously informed.

She ignored the sites of Whiterun, even managed to dodge the very compelling priest at the foot of the stairway Dragonsreach and her goal.

Dragonsreach was possibly the grandest building she had ever been in, its vaulted ceiling and imposing size made her feel out of place and uncomfortable. Even so, she ignored the voices whispering in her ear that she didn't belong and made her way up the wooden steps to the banqueting hall.

Even from far away it was easy to tell who the Jarl was: he was reclining lazily upon his throne, a golden circlet resting on his flaxen hair. He seemed completely unaware of the two men who argue above him. She approached cautiously, she had never been in the company of anyone who was remotely significant, let alone demanded their help. She had always been the ragged waif, with one hand out asking for money and the other in the rich fool's pocket; in fact, the closest she had ever been to nobility in Cyrodiil was when she was thrown into the holding cells beneath their grand keeps.

"What's the meaning of this interruption?" A dark elf stood in her path, sword drawn and an ugly glare on her face, "Jarl Balgruuf is not receiving visitors."

Bellona looked at the angry elf cautiously before replying in hat she hoped was an appeasing voice, "I have news from Helgan. About the dragon attacks."

The sword was sheathed immediately, "you know about Helgan? The Jarl will want to speak to you personally. Approach." There was no apology but she was coming to realised that this was just the way for people in Skyrim.

She approached cautiously, now that she was closer to the Jarl he didn't seem as impressive. His face was lined, showing his years and she could see that he looked like...a typical Nord; with pale blue eyes and blond hair, like her, like Ralof and she began to relax. "So" he said without ceremony, "you were at Helgan? You saw this dragon with your own eyes?" He looked almost excited by the prospect.

An involuntary shiver ran down her spine in remembrance of the black demon. "The Imperials, "she spat, "were about to execute Ulfric Stormcloak. Then the dragon attacked." She finished simply, not wanting to relive it.

The Jarl frowned, "I should have guessed Ulfric would be mixed up in this." Her hands curled into fists, Ulfric had helped her escape that nightmare, and from where she stood he was a good man. He turned to the small man hovering by his throne with dark amusement in his eyes, "what do you say now, Proventus? Shall we continue to trust in the strength of our walls? Against a dragon?"

"My lord, we should sent troops to Riverwood at once." The elf- his housecarl she assumed-looked concern, "it's in the most immediate danger, if a dragon is lurking in the mountains..." she didn't finish the though, she didn't have to, the implication was there for all to see.

The mousey man started, talking over the housecarl in his haste, "the Jarl of Falkreath will view that as a provocation! He'll assume we're preparing to join Ulfric's side and attack him." He stuttered, wringing his hands. "We should not..."

"Enough," the Jarl cut him off angrily, "I will not stand idly by while a dragon burns my hold and slaughters my people!" he turned to his housecarl, "Irileth, send a detachment to Riverwood at once."

She bowed," yes, my Jarl."

"If you'll excuse me, I'll return to my duties." Proventus sniffed before walking away, leaving Bellona alone with the leader of Whiterun.

"Well done, "he smiled warmly at her. "You sought me out, on your own initiative. You've done Whiterun a service, and I won't forget it." He got up from his throne, "there is another thing you could do for me. Suitable for someone of your particular talents, perhaps." He gave the sword at her side a speculative look.

"Come, let's go find Farengar, my court wizard. He's been looking into a matter related to these dragons and…rumours of dragons." She didn't have time to object before he began moving towards room to the right of the hall. "I'll introduce you to Farengar. He can be a little...difficult." he finished diplomatically, "mages. You know."

She didn't listen as the Jarl introduced her to a man who hide his face behind a dark robe. She wondered if it helped with Magicka or if he just thought he looked impressive wearing it. He gave her a disdainful look, "so the Jarl thinks you can be of use to me?" Doubt was evident is his face, "oh yes, he must be referring to my research into the dragons."He looked at her for a moment, I could use someone to fetch something for me." He folded his arms, a wry smile on his face, "well I saw fetch, I really me delve into a dangerous ruin in search of an ancient stone tablet that may or may not actually be there."

"What does this have to do with dragons?" She asked skeptically.

He gave her what she assumed was a rare smile, "ah no mere brute mercenary, but a thinker- perhaps even a scholar?" He looked at her approvingly. "You see, when the stories of dragons began to circulate, many dismissed them as mere fantasies, rumours, Impossibilities." He shook his head, unbelieving of their folly, "one sure mark of a fool is to dismiss anything outside his experience as being impossible."

She had to disagree with him there, because Dragons? Honestly, no one sane would believe her back home if she told them, and she wouldn't have believed it either. The mage continued, oblivious to her thoughts, "but I began to search for information about dragons-where had they gone all those years ago? And where were they coming from?"

She interrupted him before he could go off on a tangent about the history of dragons. "What do you want me to do?"

He looked guilty, realising he had indulged his curiosity for too long, "I, ah, learned of a certain stone tablet said to be housed in Bleak Falls Barrow- a 'Dragonstone' said to contain a map of dragon burial sites. Go to Bleak Falls Barrow, find this tablet-no doubt interned in the main chamber-and bring it to me. Simplicity itself." If only things happened like that she thought darkly to herself. Ralof had warned her about the Barrow, but it seemed like she would be going in, not that she had much say in the matter, but she doubted that she could refuse the Jarl.

She nodded, and with a brief bow to the Jarl she made her way out of Dragonsreach. To Bleak Falls Barrow.


End file.
